


Table for Two

by SegaBarrett



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fingering In Public, Sex as a Bargaining Chip, Trying to Stay Quiet While Being Fingered in Public To Avoid Detection, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Bela has what Sam wants. It might also be the other way around.
Relationships: Bela Talbot/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Table for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [head_over_stilettos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/head_over_stilettos/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and I make no money from this. 
> 
> A/N: This is a real restaurant. Eat there, their food is amazing. There will probably not be Winchester sex in the corner though, I'm sorry to say.

“We need to find the leg of Noah in order to banish this demon,” Dean read from John Winchester’s journal. “Where the hell do we find the ‘Leg of Noah’? Why wasn’t his leg with the rest of him?”

“Maybe he left it on the ark or something,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t find it and use it right now…”

“Every sorority girl on this campus is fair game,” Dean answered, “And that would be a serious tragedy we cannot let happen.”

Sam hesitated, and Dean looked back at him.

“What?”

“There is one place we could try.”

Dean looked up at him for a long while, before scoffing.

“Sammy! You have got to be kidding me. Not again.”

“She was able to help us last time, Dean. She may be a horrible person, but she’s good at tracking objects. You know it’s true.”

“I don’t have any desire to go walking back into another Bela bear trap. You can do this one on your own, Sammy. I’m going to ask Garth. It will go much easier.”

***

Bela asked Sam to meet him at Chaikana, a Russian restaurant in the middle of Omaha, which had been a two-hour drive. Along the way, he considered what Bela might want from him in return. Some other artifact? Maybe. That was her business, after all. Or maybe she just wanted money, not that the Winchesters had it (credit cards in the name of Jimmy Page and Mike Rutherford not withstanding)… But sometimes her motives hadn’t always been so clear. Sometimes, and he never would have told Dean this or he knew he would have been laughed at, it seemed as if there was more to Bela than she showed on the surface. 

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking and she was as deep as a puddle. It wasn’t worth thinking about, not really – he needed to stay focused on the task at hand. It wouldn’t do any good to think about that secret little smile that Bela kept giving him, the one that tended to put non-hunting thoughts in his brain. Well, maybe hunting of a different kind. 

***

When he arrived at the restaurant, he spotted her instantly. She was dressed in a black dress, the kind that seemed to invite Sam to feel the material with his eyes – it looked soft. He wanted to touch it and – no, he needed to shut up his mind, because clearly that was the kind of thing Bela wanted him to be thinking so he would be off his game. 

He needed the right head in control now. 

“Well, hello Sam.” The words seemed to slide right off of Bela’s tongue, and Sam found his eyes following it from left to right, her tongue that was, as it licked her lips. “Our table is right over here. At the very back… so we can have the necessary privacy.”

Sam glared at her. 

“I’m not here to play games with you, Bela. I’m here to get the information you promised me over the phone. Unless you don’t want to do business, in which case I’ll turn around and go.”

“And drive all the way back?” Bela’s accent was particularly grating right now, as if it wasn’t all the time. “I think you came here with a plan to do whatever it takes, Sam. So let’s take a seat and, as you said, talk business.”

She drifted to the back and sat with her back to the wall and her legs spread, slightly, which had the effect of tilting Sam’s gaze in a direction he really needed it not to go. 

“Bela, I don’t have time for the games. Why don’t you ever think about anyone other than yourself?”

“Because this way is much more fun.” She shifted them just a little bit more, then tilted her head to the side. “I think you should start playing my game if you want what I have… and you do want what I have, don’t you?”

And he did, in more ways than one, as the feeling of heat pumping through his skin was letting him know in no uncertain terms.

“What do you want from me?” Sam asked, and Bela thrust her hips forward. He looked around, nervously, noticing suddenly that there were a number of people in the restaurant, all dressed nicely in suits and dresses. It suddenly felt very…inappropriate. 

This would have not been a problem for Dean, Sam thought, and then he sighed and moved his chair forward, just enough to lay his finger on her… well, that was unexpected. He had assumed that she would have panties beneath the skirt but there was nothing. Sam’s finger collided directly with her clit, poking up as if it was a button (maybe a self-destruct one, Sam considered) that he ached to press.

Where was that thought going to lead him exactly? Nowhere good, of course, and everywhere bad, and far away from the leg of Noah. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He gave a short, testing, teasing rub, looking up to see if anyone else was even noticing that this was going on. Getting kicked out of the restaurant probably wouldn’t help him in this deal, so he would need to be discreet.

Bela was biting down on her lip ever so slightly, and her eyes were half-lidded. 

“Will you give me what I want?” Sam asked, with another experimental rub to underscore the question.

Bela’s mouth slipped open, and she let out a low, tiny gasp.

“Excuse me, ma’am, sir…”

Sam jerked up in his seat, pulling his hand back and letting his own mouth drape open in shock for a moment.

Bela’s reply was a frustrated grunt followed by a polite smile, as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary at all.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter inquired.

“Why, yes, I’ll take the borscht,” Bela replied, smooth as silk.

“Yeah, uh, me too,” Sam stammered in a voice a few octaves too high to be his natural one. 

The moment the man vanished, albeit with a perplexed look on his face, he reached forward and pressed his thumb to Bela’s nub and began to rub again. Bela looked at him, a surprised smirk flocking to her face. She jerked her hips forward, as if pleading silently for more contact.

“Sam,” she grumbled under her breath.

“No,” Sam whispered back, “You need something from me, now. And I need something from you, too.”

“Not here,” Bela said, letting out a light, nervous chuckle, as if the game had now begun to be too real for her. 

Sam drew his finger away, and Bela let out a moan of protest.

“Thought you wanted to stop, Bela,” Sam hissed.

“No, keep doing that,” she replied emphatically, “But the… Leg of… Ohhh…. It’s not here with me… I have it back at…” Sam’s finger had returned to its previous place and slipped past her clit to dip his fingertip inside her wet hole, just a second before pulling it back. “Why?” 

“Your borschts,” the waiter said, placing them down on the table before skirting off again. 

Bela glared at Sam.

“I don’t know if I can eat like this…”

“Want to try?” Sam replied with a newfound surge of esteem. He wanted Bela to scream his name, hell to cry his name. Anything to jolt her look of composure, that look that she got on her face all the time as if nothing would ever move her. 

Bela slipped her spoon into the borscht and brought it up to her mouth, just as Sam slipped two fingers inside her. All she managed was a tiny “oh!” as she slid her tongue over the spoon, lapping up the liquid.

And Sam slipped the fingers deeper, before spreading them wide, getting another little jolt from every sound he made her mutter. She might have been on the wrong side of everything, might have driven Sam and Dean completely up the wall too many times, but now he was in control. 

And he wasn’t planning on giving it up anytime soon, either.

Sam crooked his fingers, leading Bela to bite down on the spoon and let out another gasp. 

“Better be careful not to swallow it,” he teased.

“Shut up,” she gasped.

He spread his fingers deeper, beginning to thrust, letting out a little sound of his own as he tried to keep quiet. It was getting harder and harder, and as he watched her slowly peel away her self-control, he had to resist the urge to see if she would go to the back – what back, he wondered, which back, there had to be some private place where he could push her against the wall and fuck her, rough and quick, biting the soft pale skin of her shoulders and thighs. 

His fingers sped up, as if meeting with his mind’s image. There was no time. There were things he needed to do. Reasons he had come here in the first place besides getting his needs met.

But that didn’t mean this couldn’t be enjoyable.

Bela let out a little cry, shutting her eyes, as if she was holding back desperately. Sam found that he loved seeing that look in her eyes and a strange little powertrip took him over again as his fingers brushed against something that made her cry out more loudly than she seemed to have intended and then look around abashedly.

“Are you two ready for your main course?” the waiter inquired, as Bela let out a startled cry and began to vibrate like a bed at one of Dean’s seedier hotel choices, unable to speak.

Sam chuckled (he didn’t quite like the sound of it, almost like he was without a soul again – he’d have to get back on track and soon). 

“I think we’ll need a few more minutes. Sorry.” 

The waiter walked away with an expression that Sam couldn’t quite read.

“So, the Leg of Noah…” Sam began.

“I have it in my room,” Bela supplied, in a dreamy sort of voice.

“Where in your room?”

She smirked.

“In my bed. I’ll take you there after this.”

“It’s a deal. Don’t double-cross me.”

He peeked as Bela pulled one of her stockings back up.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
